


Love To The Bone

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Confessions, Love, M/M, Realization, Some Fluff, Some sexy moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: It is not surprising that they have come to this after keeping it inside for so long.





	Love To The Bone

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on [THIS LOVELY](http://bryonyashley.tumblr.com/post/166009215447/pretending-to-not-love-you-is-the-hardest-thing) tumblr entry.

“Are you okay?” Illya asks as he looks down at Napoleon with worry and love evident in his eyes. 

“I’m more than okay,” Napoleon manages to breathe out. 

Illya had made love to him earlier, and he could still feel it in his bones; the way he’d come untouched, could still hear Illya groaning at the tightening around his cock, pulling him over the edge almost unexpectedly. They had gasped and grunted together as Illya emptied himself into him while keeping his eyes on Napoleon the entire time.

And now, hours later, every single move, every single touch of Illya’s hand on his skin, still makes him tremble. 

Leaning up, he steals a peck from Illya’s lips, and murmurs, “You’re amazing,” against the Russian’s flushed cheek.

It is an understatement, really. The experience had been mind-blowing, so much that Napoleon had been close to passing out from the intensity of his high and all the waves that had followed after.

Illya clearly overwhelmed too, could only smile as he kisses Napoleon’s forehead. A sigh escapes him, as they lay there side by side on the wrecked sheets underneath them. 

Hearing Napoleon admits that he _needs_ him for the first time that night had set Illya’s pulse racing. 

“I could say the same,” had been Illya’s reply, and he could not think of anything else, other than to capture the willing mouth he’d always dreamed of kissing. Those lips had been damn addictive and Illya had felt reluctant to ever leave them, but when his hands had found Napoleon’s other weak spots, he’d rejoiced, letting his mouth elicit more of the breathless gasps he got from kissing down his neck, trailing down his chest and paying extra attention to his navel. He had remembered everything. The way Napoleon had his eyes closed, the way his chest had risen, body arching with need, and lips parted. All it had taken was his fingers and lube and some gentle prodding at his entrance. It had been hot and tight and Illya had tried his best to distract Napoleon from any kind of discomfort by kissing the inside of his thighs, sucking and licking and biting the tender skin.

And it had worked.

Napoleon, lost in ecstasy, had his hands gripping onto the sheets, almost tearing it apart. And Illya had kept going on until he’d lost his mind. 

“Come on, Napoleon,” Illya had breathed, coaxing his lover, and the American’s eyes had snapped open when a kiss was pressed to the head of his cock, making him moan aloud.

“Hey, are you still here with me?”

Napoleon’s voice brings Illya back to the present, away from that beautiful moment that will forever be imprinted in his mind.

“Yes,” he replies with a smile. “Of course.”

His hand moves down Napoleon’s back in a long and warm caress, while one long leg wraps itself around Napoleon’s hip and thigh, snuggling closer to that warm body. They share a slow kiss, just lazily moving their lips, and Illya has never been more aware of how beautiful Napoleon is.

“Pretending to not love you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he suddenly says softly. 

“And you think it’s been easy for me?”

It’s a question Illya doesn’t have to answer. Because it’s clear as light of day what they had tried so hard to hide from each other. And they had spectacularly failed at it today.

A bullet aimed to kill had grazed Napoleon’s right shoulder instead, and that incident had jolted Illya to a realisation. He had seen it happened in front of him, and his heart had plummeted at the way Napoleon had fallen to the ground in pain. 

A split second later, with no hesitation from his part, he had finished off Napoleon’s shooter, despite the man pleading for his life in vain. 

“He deserved it,” Illya had said to Napoleon while helping him to his feet, unapologetic for what he’d done.

“Waverly won’t be pleased,” Napoleon had argued, but Illya had nothing to say to that because it’s the least of his worries. All he could think about then was to get Napoleon to safety. But he had no control as to what would happen after. 

“Love is a dangerous thing, Peril. Messes with your head, clouds your judgement. In our line of work, it’s extremely unacceptable,” Napoleon blurts, his voice almost inaudible, a mere whisper above the racing of his heart. But then, large hands start cupping his face, forces him to lock eyes with a pair of blue ones that make his breath hitch. 

“If we want the same thing, I do not see problem,” Illya says, voice warm and convincing, and Napoleon can’t help but fall harder for the man.

“Suddenly someone’s being so mature,” he chuckles.

“I am serious.”

“Pushy,” Napoleon replies, but Illya does not seem concerned at Napoleon’s halfhearted attempts at misdirection. Instead, he kisses up Napoleon's neck and jaw, and Napoleon relents.

“I know this is completely insane. But I won’t give you up, Cowboy. I can’t, and I won’t,” Illya states firmly and Napoleon nods.

“Illya?” he says a moment later, brings a hand up, pushing Illya’s sweaty hair off of his forehead.

“Napoleon?”

“I love you.”

Illya’s smile reaches his eyes, feeling warm inside as his heart manages to somehow skip a beat and then another one. He presses a small kiss to Napoleon’s nose and brings him closer.

“I love you more, Cowboy.”

And even if Napoleon wants to argue, he will let Illya win. Just this once.


End file.
